homecoming
by Miah-Chan
Summary: Rainbow lights reflect in his eyes, twine through his hair and paint over his skin like a kaleidoscope as they whirl, splashing in puddles and dancing through the mist rising off the concrete without a care for anyone but each other. Music pounds distantly through the club walls, a muted beat they don't bother to keep time to.


my piece for the _It's Meaningless Without You_ zine on Tumblr! Check out all the amazing artists & writers that participated makoharu-zine! It was an honor to have my work showcased alongside so many incredible people 3 Please also be sure to check out knoc0ut on Tumblr as well, as Koko & I collaborated during this project, and they created an amazing partner piece!

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There are moments in which Haru knows with crystal clarity that he made the best decision in choosing Tokyo—in choosing Makoto. It's not that he ever doubted his choice once making it, because choosing Makoto has never once lead to a mistake, but there have still been a number of instances that made him appreciate the path he decided to take just that much more.

This time it's late when they finally manage to break away from Haru's team, leaving them to continue celebrating their earlier victory by singing peppy pop songs as cheap beer flows through their systems. Waving good-bye to their pleading calls to stay, Haru leads Makoto away by the wrist, tugging him out into the night with full intent on 'accidentally' missing Makoto's stop so he can stay over (preferably for the entire weekend). He draws to an abrupt stop as as soon as they step outside of the club, however, thanks to the torrents of rain dousing the city—and, consequently, the both of them.

Surprised, but hardly upset over it, Haru tilts his chin up to greet the first sign of the rainy season. He revels in the feel of cold droplets pattering over his cheeks, smooth and gentle as they slide over his face to trail down his neck, plastering his hair to his forehead and soaking his shirt to his back. It has clearly been raining a while now, sidewalks drowning in puddles as fog rises from the concrete in delicate tendrils; it's even managed to wash away the scent of the city for once, just a little more reminiscent of home. He inhales it deeply, lets it coat his lungs with a much-appreciated touch of familiarity.

Beside him, Makoto barks out a startled laugh, a little too tipsy to react as quickly as usual and already so drenched that any run for cover would be virtually useless. Haru smiles at the sound as it echoes and bounces off the walls of the karaoke club behind them, weaving through the droplets to make itself at home in Haru's chest, just as it always has. It warms him against the brief chill of midnight rain, spreads through his limbs and makes his fingertips tingle in the way only Makoto can; it has his lips curving upwards and suddenly he can't stand the meager space between them. Makoto tips his head down to meet Haru's gaze as if he knows—like he feels it too—and Haru can't help but reach for him, pulling him in and holding him close without any thought on what to do next. He just wants Makoto near him; he always wants Makoto near.

Makoto's laughter returns, bubbles over, rumbling pleasantly against his torso when he pulls Haru closer by the hands without question. His eyes crinkle above his rosy cheeks as he says, "Dance with me, Haru-chan."

He doesn't really give Haru the chance to deny him (not that he wants to), immediately tugging him closer and leading them into a messy waltz down the sidewalk. Pedestrians flow around them without hesitation or comment, too focused on their own destinations to care about a couple of giddy college students making fools of themselves. Makoto shows off just a little, grin turning cheeky when he spins Haru away only to tug him back into a dip. Haru scowls, more on principle than because he actually minds, which only makes Makoto smile wider.

 _Worth it, then_ , Haru thinks to himself with a touch of pride. There is little more rewarding than being the cause of Makoto's smile. The brunet pulls him upright again and twirls them into motion once more, giggling as they spin, spin, spin.

Rainbow lights reflect in his eyes, twine through his hair and paint over his skin like a kaleidoscope as they whirl, splashing in puddles and dancing through the mist rising off the concrete without a care for anyone but each other. Music pounds distantly through the club walls, a muted beat they don't bother to keep time to. (Haru couldn't if he tried, really, entirely too enamored with the man holding him to care for inconsequential things like that.)

Because Makoto is warm against him, hands now heavy on his waist as he hums a loose tune of whatever song must be spilling onto the street. It's slower than before and Makoto takes note, leading them out of their wild, uncoordinated steps and into a more sedate pace made to leave no space between them. The tip of his nose is chilly against Haru's temple as he leans in, swaying them away from a passerby. Rain drips from the ends of his eyelashes to kiss Haru's cheeks sweetly.

Haru finds he'd much rather taste it from Makoto's lips instead.

It's not the first time he's thought it, and it won't be the last, but this time Haru feels a little more inclined to act on the wish. A bit braver, bolder. Anything feels possible tonight—it always does, with Makoto by his side.

Makoto pulls back then, just enough to look him in the eye before he speaks. His voice is low, husky with overuse from the multitude of songs Haru's team convinced him to sing earlier; it sends a shiver down his spine when Makoto offers a soft smile and murmurs, "I'd really like to kiss you right now, Haru-chan."

And Haru can't help the way his mouth curves up in amusement, can't even bring himself to reply with a sassy, "Only if you drop the -chan", because _of course_ Makoto would ask politely rather than just _do_. He always considers Haru's feelings first, always approaches him with an air of compassion, as if he doesn't already know Haru's thoughts on the matter—he does, he always does, but he never takes away Haru's freedom to choose.

But Haru has always been better at _doing_ , trusting Makoto's understanding of him, so he lets his hands speak for him, reaching up to cup the back of Makoto's neck and pulling him down to meet him halfway the way he's dreamed of doing for ages now.

He decides it was absolutely worth the wait, exhaling with relief at the warm press of Makoto's lips (finally, _finally_ ) against his own. Makoto hums, pleased, lips curling upwards just slightly but not enough to break contact; instead, he wraps his arms around Haru's waist to pull him closer, impossibly closer, melding their chests together so firmly that even the rain seems unable to come between them. Haru barely even notices it anymore, too caught up in the dizzying rush that loving Makoto brings him.

It's everything he ever imagined it would be. More, even.

There are so many sensations to feel—the rain still pounding against their shoulders, Makoto's soft hair between his fingers, the press of his nose to his cheek, the slide of Makoto's hands up and down his spine—that it's almost overwhelming. He feels lightheaded, unstable on his feet, and is grateful for Makoto's steadying hands now settling on the small of his back. He sways a bit on his toes, punch-drunk on everything the moment has to offer, unable to fathom stopping for even a second.

But, in the same way he has since childhood, Makoto acts as Haru's impulse control. It takes a few tries, the both of them diving back in for quick pecks that turn into slow, leisurely explorations, but finally Makoto manages, giggles spilling from his reddened lips. He rests his forehead against Haru's, whispering giddily, "Your place for the weekend?"

"Yes," Haru agrees without hesitation, finding Makoto's hands so he can intertwine their fingers. He wants to add ' _Anywhere, as long as it's with you_ ' but the words cling in the spaces between his ribs, too shy to form on his tongue just yet. Still, he can tell Makoto hears them anyway, in the way his eyes soften and how his next kiss lingers sweetly.

As they make their way towards the station, hand in hand, Haru feels a sense of completion thrum through him, warm and comfortable and familiar. He's never been one for overtly romantic notions, but there's no denying that being with Makoto, in all ways, is like coming home.

There's nowhere else he'd rather be.

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Thanks for reading! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts! 3

Y'all can also find me on AO3 Miah_Kat - you'll find I'm much more active there, as it's where I post fic first these days.


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